


Redemption

by BoundLight



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bentley, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Gabriel isn't a complete douche for once, God has her say, I AM HAVING A MOMENT, M/M, Redemption, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:55:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22134412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoundLight/pseuds/BoundLight
Summary: After the apocalypse God pays a visit to Crowley and Aziraphale.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 206





	Redemption

After their mutual near death experiences, dinner at the Ritz never tasted so good.

Crowley was enraptured by Aziraphale's beauty, the ease of his smile, the joy he clearly felt with every bite he took. He couldn't take his eyes away. They had spent so much time dancing around each other for the last 6000 years, but it was always tempered with the fear of getting caught. Now there was nothing between them, and Crowley for one was having a hard time keeping his hands to himself.

He started to reach out, but a treacherous voice in the back of his mind drew him up short. What if Aziraphale didn't feel the same?

A stupid thought. Clearly he did. I mean, right? He did. Absolutely... But then again...

He aborted the gesture, his hand pressing to the table halfway between them as casually as possible.

He hated himself just a little for his cowardice.

In his head two voices screamed, arguing, ranting, cajoling, and doubting. His shoulders hunched as his anxiety raged until he tried to discretely pull his hand back. It was immediately captured.

Aziraphale twined their fingers, his thumb rubbing a circle of warmth into his skin. Crowley's breath caught.

“Everything okay, dearest?” Aziraphale smiled and Crowley found himself helplessly returning it.

“Of course,” Crowley said putting as much confidence in his voice as possible, a light blush on his cheeks betraying him. “Why would anything be wrong?”

“You just seemed uncertain there for a moment,” Aziraphale said softly.

Crowley's eyes met his. In his mind he saw the bookshop on fire. He saw Aziraphale in heaven, being discarded, forced into a wall of hellfire. He thought of himself taking a final holy water bath. With a quick miracle he easily swung his chair around the table so he was directly beside his angel. His fingers captured Aziraphale chin and drew him close.

The proximity made him pause again.

This was something he'd dreamed of for a long time, but then... He glanced at Aziraphale lips, once again anxious and unsure.

Aziraphale wasn't resisting, wasn't pulling back. He just watched Crowley with an expression he couldn't name.

No, he'd taken too long. He couldn't do it. He dropped his hands and started to shift back.

Aziraphale caught him before he could move to far, and tugged him close, kissing him with a gentleness that Crowley had never known. His mind short circuited, a loud buzzing filled his ears.

He came back when they finally broke apart. Aziraphale smiled, and kissed his nose, then his cheek. Crowley shook himself, and tried to regain his cool demeanor.

“Do you want to come back to mine?” He whispered. He'd hoped he sound smooth and debonair, but it came out breathless and hopeful.

Aziraphale stood, offering his hand, dinner forgotten. A minor miracle left a large sum of money on the table to cover whatever he imagined the check might be. He erred on the side of overpaying rather than under. After all, this restaurant was where the two had spent many a pleasant evening courting.

The brisk air outside cleared his head, and the Bentley brought Crowley a measure of peace. She was his. His space, his safety. All of his anxiety vanished as he settled deeply into the leather seats. He grabbed Aziraphale's hand and tugged him a little closer.

His plan had been to drive straight back to his apartment, but everything was simple in the Bentley, and he saw no reason to end that so soon.

Aziraphale smiled at him, content to let him take them where ever he wanted. That changed as Crowley's foot started to creep down.

“Going a little... fast, are we?”

Crowley smirked.

“Dearest?”

Crowley drove faster than he ever had through the heart of London, zipping in and out of spaces far too small to have reasonably allowed him. It happened to be his favorite game, and one he was quite skilled at.

Aziraphale did not have the same enjoyment of the game, and after several desperate comments gave up on saying anything more, and just squeezed his hand. If Crowley had been human, bones would have been crushed. But in a way, that was rather flattering. He was happy to be Aziraphale's anchor, even if he was the one directly causing him stress.

Crowley couldn't help himself. He brought Aziraphale's hand to his mouth, kissing at his knuckles, fingers, down his wrist, all the skin he could reach. He couldn't tell if the sharp intake of breath was Aziraphale feeling the same heat he was, or if it was due to his diminishing attention to the road. Crowley grinned, teeth sharp against the skin on the back of Aziraphale's hand. Ahead of him the light had turned red, but if Aziraphale thought he was stopping for anything he was sorely mistaken.

He delighted in the high whine it earned him. As he sped between two oncoming cars, he wondered how many other sounds he could wring from his angel just from his driving. After all, it wasn't as though they could actually get hurt inside the Bentley. That was just preposterous. They weren't going to be discorporated by something as simple as a car. Aziraphale's terror was adorable.

“Could you not, dearest?”

Oh, that breathy tone. Yes, please.

“Could I not... what, angel?” He took a corner on two wheels.

A sharp intake of breath, a whimper. Aziraphale braced for impact, and then breathed out heavily as they landed safe and sound on the other side.

“That. Could you not do that?”

“Turn? You don't want me to turn? So straight ahead only?”

“No! Just... can we please get to your apartment? Preferably in one piece?”

“Why angel, so eager. Almost there.”

He put on another burst of speed, using a series of miracles to move other cars out of his way, and came to a ramp leading to underground parking. Parking in London was always a hassle, so the underground lot this particular community offered had really sold the apartment. The fact that Hell didn't care about the number of frivolous miracles he he preformed made his choice of living arrangement matter only in location. He could make the interior anything he desired.

Well, that had been the logic anyway. His imagination hadn't extended far inside. It was high enough he had a good view, there was a large room he dedicated to his own personal Eden, and other than that... he'd tried any number of styles and layouts, and updated it every few decades to match whatever the current popular culture dictated, but he tended to leave it rather minimalist unless he was feeling bored or particularly angry. After all, he spent so much more time at Aziraphale's shop – sleeping on his couch, or getting drunk in his backroom – so his own living arrangements were far less important.

Leading Aziraphale to the lift, he was beginning to regret that. The angel had never been to his apartment, and Crowley would have changed everything if he'd had a moment to think. Aziraphale preferred things warm and cozy. Muted colors, soft furniture, an abundance of books. He hissed softly, anxious on how Aziraphale would react, wondering if the angel would find it unusual to ask him to wait outside for a few minutes while he rearranged.

Aziraphale noticed immediately, and squeezed his hand.

Crowley tried to hide his anxiety behind his own look of concern. “You alright there, angel? Not having any second thoughts?”

Aziraphale smiled, and thankfully didn't push it.

They arrived at the door far too soon. Crowley hesitated, and then had a flash of brilliance. In an impossible move he had Aziraphale pressed against the door, a knee between his thighs, teeth sinking into the soft flesh at his throat.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale gasped.

Crowley shuddered. Oh, the noises his angel could make, how had he gone so long without them?

“Maybe we should go inside?” Aziraphale whispered.

“Hush, angel,” Crowley said. He couldn't get enough of the taste of Aziraphale's skin as he licked and bit just above his collar. He needed more, and with a snap of his fingers had the bow tie gone, and his buttons parted beneath greedy fingers.

“What if someone sees, darling?” Aziraphale's voice trembled almost an octave higher than normal.

Crowley groaned and bit him harder. Aziraphale rewarded him with another cry. Momentarily satisfied, his hands busied themselves inside Aziraphale's coat, dipping beneath his waistband to pull at his shirt, and feel at the skin still hidden.

Aziraphale wrapped an arm around his waist, and Crowley smirked, happy his plan of distraction was working.

Until Aziraphale unlocked the door with a gesture and stepped them through.

Crowley stumbled at the unexpected movement, and Aziraphale easily rotated him, pressing him to the wall and closing the door with a flourish.

“That's better, isn't it?” Aziraphale teased. He took Crowley's glasses and tossed them aside.

“Wha –”

Aziraphale nosed up beneath Crowley's jaw and pressed a kiss to the hallow of his throat. His hands took their turn sliding up Crowley's chest. With another gesture Crowley's shirt, jacket, vest, were gone.

“That's hardly fair –”

Aziraphale pressed close, smoothing his hands over the smooth panes of his stomach and chest and Crowley's brain shorted for a moment, devoid of everything except the feel of Aziraphale's hands brandingly hot against his skin, and the press of his still clothed body, a steady weight holding him down. For several minutes he forgot how to breathe.

“Alright there, dearest?” Aziraphale murmured, an darkly amused glint in his eye.

Crowley snapped back.

In one strong move he straightened and knocked Aziraphale back a step. His smile was sharp, all teeth. “Oh, angel.”

A gesture and they were in the bedroom. He'd hoped to see even the smallest hint of disorientation on Aziraphale's part, but his angel just smiled, far more confidently than he was expecting. Another gesture and the rest of their clothing was gone. Crowley nodded appreciatively of the effort Aziraphale had put forth.

Aziraphale flushed and moved his arms to discreetly cover his belly, but Crowley was having none of it, and knocked him onto the overly plush bed, pinning Aziraphale's hands above his head. “Mine,” he hissed.

Crowley squeezed his wrists gently, in a silent request to keep them there and pulled back onto his knees, greedy eyes drinking in the sight. This was something he'd wanted to do for thousands of years, and now that he had Aziraphale spread out beneath him he was going to finally going to take his fill.

Aziraphale blushed at the attention. The longer Crowley watched him more it spread, dark red reaching up to his ears, and starting down his chest. With each passing minute the blush grew darker, a staining scarlet that he couldn't control.

After Crowley was finally satisfied – for the next few hours anyway – it was time to touch. He pressed his hands to Aziraphale's stomach, feeling the deliciously soft skin.

Aziraphale flinched ever so slightly at the touch of his fingertips. A normal human would not necessarily have noticed, but Crowley was no ordinary human. Crowley swooped close, nose practically touching Aziraphale's as his eyes serpentine eyes searched bright blue orbs. “What is it?”

Aziraphale bit his lip, considering whether or not to say anything. “I can lose it... if you want,” he said softly.

“Don't you dare,” Crowley growled. He pulled back and grabbed at Aziraphale's stomach, nuzzling into the warm skin, placing wet kisses and nips everywhere he could reach.

Aziraphale gasped. He wasn't sure how to feel about this. On the one hand he was wonderfully overwhelmed by the sight of Crowley's gorgeous form, for once bared for him to see. The feel of his lips, his hands, his teeth, were indescribable. It was like electricity under his skin, every touch causing a spasm of uncontrollable emotion. On the other hand, how could someone as beautiful, as amazing as Crowley find him attractive? He wished desperately that he was clothed.

“Stop it,” Crowley grumbled, biting hard at Aziraphale's hip and sucking a bruise.

“S-stop what?”

“Thinking.” He licked at the mark, feeling a surge of possessiveness darkly satisfied by the visual evidence of his passion.

“I can hardly stop that, can I?” Aziraphale breathlessly laughed.

“You can stop thinking such bad thoughts at the very least then,” Crowley said. “Tell you what, just keep your hands on me, alright?”

Aziraphale hesitantly set his hands on Crowley's shoulders.

“Exactly, just like that. If you start thinking those bad thoughts, angel, I want you to just focus on me. On the feel of my skin under your palms.” He leaned forward and kissed Aziraphale soundly. “Focus on how I feel on top of you.”

With a thought he miracled lube on his fingers, and pressed one quickly into Aziraphale's entrance.

“On how I feel inside you.”

Aziraphale groaned loudly, his back arching beneath him, his mind wonderfully blank.

“That's more like it,” Crowley murmured, pressing kisses up Aziraphale's neck and biting at his jaw. “You're perfect, angel.”

With the powers afforded to him, Crowley really didn't need to spend any time preparing his lover, but the sight and sounds of Aziraphale writhing on his fingers was something he could spend centuries experiencing. He added a second finger, and then a third, each time spending longer than he needed for Aziraphale to get used to the intrusion. He briefly considered continuing, and watch Aziraphale wrap around his fist, but there would be time for that later. There would be time for everything later.

“I love you,” Crowley whispered against Aziraphale's skin. “I love you,” he whispered as he removed his fingers. “I love you,” he whispered as he entered him. “I love you,” he whispered with every thrust.

Aziraphale's head dropped back, a deep groan resonating from his throat, his hands grabbing at every inch of Crowley he could reach. Eventually one settled behind Crowley's neck, fingers scratching at the short hairs there, and the other gripped his arm in a deathlike vice. The declarations of love and the warmth of Crowley's voice were completely overwhelming him. There was a sense of love all around him and within him – something he'd always known, but dismissed as background static – that he finally realized was Crowley. And that meant... that this was real. That Crowley's love was true and genuine, and had been there for thousands of years.

Aziraphale felt all of his insecurities vanish, and Crowley's love began to fill the void it left. He wrapped his legs around Crowley's waist, pulling him as close as he could. His hands buried themselves in dark red hair and pulled Crowley to him. Their lips met and time stopped. Aziraphale couldn't get enough of the feel of Crowley's lips, and the taste of him. His tongue sought more, playing with the slight fork of the demon's tongue, chasing the taste of him.

“Dearest,” Aziraphale breathed when they finally broke apart.

“Angel,” Crowley responded. His hips had briefly stuttered to a halt, but he quickly found his rhythm again.

Aziraphale's head fell back, baring his throat. Crowley took full advantage, biting the smooth column of his neck. Aziraphale felt so overpoweringly happy that light began to trace itself beneath his skin, illuminating patterns so complex Crowley couldn't follow them, until they could no longer be differentiated and Aziraphale was left glowing brightly in the darkness.

Crowley pulled back, eyes wide, mouth dropped in amazement.

It took Aziraphale a few minutes to notice. He cringed. “I'm sorry.”

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale's leg, hooking a knee over his shoulder, and let himself lose control, thrusting as hard and fast as he could, fingers applying a bruising force on Aziraphale's hips as he pulled the angel back to meet him. “You're so beautiful,” he gasped.

All Aziraphale could do was take it, a high whine escaping him, the light shining all the brighter.

Crowley knew he wasn't going to last much longer, and focused on driving Aziraphale over the edge. He focused on unerringly on Aziraphale's prostate, stroking his cock in time with each thrust. Aziraphale came with a shattering cry, and Crowley rode him through it, until he came with a shudder, and allowed himself to fall onto Aziraphale's chest, his body covering as much skin as he could.

“It... doesn't hurt, does it?” Aziraphale whispered.

Crowley was too tired to give that any proper thought. His mind slowly tried to figure out what the words could even mean. The light emanating from Aziraphale's skin was so deliciously warm that he just wanted to curl up and sleep for a decade. He gave up. “Sleep, angel,” he murmured.

Aziraphale laughed softly, and pet his hands down Crowley's sides and through his hair. Crowley fell asleep feeling like he was cuddled safely in clouds.

\--------

Crowley groaned. It was morning and light was warming his face, waking him up far earlier than he wanted. He flicked his hand at the window and willed the blinds down.

The light remained.

He snapped his fingers a bit more aggressively than he needed, and he heard the blinds creak painfully as they tried to close further.

He peeked open an eye. The room was still largely dark, and the blinds were firmly closed against the sun. The light was coming from beneath him. From an angel that was fast asleep, and apparently still very much at peace.

Crowley was torn. On the one hand it made his heart clench in an uncomfortable way that he never wanted to end, and on the other he really really really wanted to go back to sleep.

Aziraphale opened his eyes, a light blush on his cheeks. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

“Look at you,” Crowley teased. “I always knew you were holding out on me, angel. Afraid I'd make you my personal heating pad?”

Aziraphale smiled, and the light shinned brighter.

“Ack.” Crowley held up a hand to block the light. “Mind reeling it back in a little?”

“I'm sorry. It doesn't hurt you, does it?”

“Oh, _that's_ what you were going on about. No, it doesn't hurt, it's just really fucking bright for this early in the morning. Wait!” With a flourish Crowley's glasses were perched on his nose. “That's better. But still angel, I think even the humans are bound to notice this.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes, and the light gradually faded. When he was once again himself, he opened his eyes and smiled at Crowley, removing his glasses. “I much prefer to see your eyes, darling.”

Crowley's heart felt as though it would burst. He swooped in to press a dozen kisses across the expanse of Aziraphale's face, until the angel was giggling, and a faint glow struggled to break free.

It was hours before they could bring themselves to leave the bedroom. Now that the could, the urge to touch was too strong to ignore. When they went for a walk around St. James, their hands were firmly locked, shoulders bumped and lingered with infinite regularity, and they only had eyes for each other. Back at Aziraphale's shop, Crowley was always just a step behind, arms wrapped around Aziraphale's chest, head tucked against him, until finally he slipped his skin, and drapped his serpentine body around the angel's shoulders.

Just when Crowley was considering the best way to tempt his angel back to bed a bell rang as the front door opened.

Crowley lifted his head and flicked an accusing tongue at Aziraphale. The angel blushed faintly.

“It was such a lovely day, and I thought there'd be no harm in opening... just for an hour or two...”

Crowley huffed and swiveled his head to study the young girl who had dared enter . She watched him in mild fright, unsure now if she truly wanted to enter. He hissed softly as she made up her mind and let the door fall shut behind her.

While Aziraphale had invited this, Crowley was at the very least pleased that she wasn't going to get anything out of his angel. It wasn't like Aziraphale suddenly _wanted_ to sell anything. If this young woman thought differently, she was going to be in for a surprise. With a soft sigh Crowley settled down, wrapping his coils just a little tighter around his angel, and tucking himself a little more firmly against his throat – just a passive reminder of his presence. He could feel Aziraphale's pulse quicken.

Crowley had expected the girl to get the hint and leave. She certainly seemed unsure and uncomfortable. But she didn't. Crowley considered trying to subtly help her find what she wanted just so Aziraphale would kick her out in defense of his book, but while the girl wandered the stacks, she didn't actually seem to be looking for anything. She just seemed content to _be_.

The bell chimed again, and two more humans entered. A couple by the looks of them, and one that was in the middle of a quarrel if he had to bet. The bell chimed again, and again, as still more people entered until the shop was full of people who didn't seem to know quite why they were there, but who weren't in any hurry to leave.

Worse still, more and more of them were drifting toward his angel. If he weren't scowling with dark viciousness as only a very large snake could, he was sure one of them would have tried to _talk_ to him by now.

“Um... Excuse me?”

Crowley hissed sharply, and did his best to stare down the girl. She had been the first to enter, and it seemed like she was the first to overcome her fear. To her credit, she still was giving Crowley a wide berth. Probably she thought he couldn't reach her now. She was mistaken.

To his annoyance Aziraphale smiled at her, and he could tell her knees went weak.

And then she asked a question. To Crowley's shock it wasn't about books.

“Do you... maybe have a minute to talk?”

Aziraphale's expression became puzzled, but for the humans it was as thought a dam had broken. They crowded in far too close to his angel, talking over each other in a desperate attempt to be heard first. They all wanted to talk about their problems, their worries, their fears. And to his unfortunate surprise, Aziraphale humored them all. He didn't necessarily say what they wanted to hear, and a few times Crowley found himself cringing at the outdated advice.

Oddly it didn't seem to matter what he said. Just his presence, a light touch of his hand, a kind word from his lips, and the humans left feeling lighter and happier than when they'd entered.

When the last finally left Crowley found his feet and locked the door with an annoyed snap.

“Already taking advantage,” Crowley scolded playfully. “I thought we had an arrangement. You don't see me out there spreading chaos and... and evil. Or whatever. Lately anyway.”

“The arrangement? I thought we were on _our_ side now,” Aziraphale teased. “Though I don't think I know what you're referring to. I haven't gone out and done anything angelic. Lately anyway.”

“Wha – That! Just now!”

“Just now? But I... I was just dealing with customers. It's what I always do.”

“No, no, no. I am in here all the time, I practically _live_ here, angel, and that is not how you deal with customers. You just gave all of those humans just a taste of angelic kindness. Don't give me that look, you _did_. And now they're going to go out and spread it. Masterfully done, by the way, but still playing dirty.”

Aziraphale's brow furrowed, his expression uncertain. “I... Did I?”

Crowley sighed dramatically. “And you didn't even realize it. What am I going to do with you?”

“You're not angry, are you my love? If you'd like we can go engage in some minor evil. I mean, I'll just watch, but we can... if you want.”

Another sigh, a bit more drawn out and put upon. “No. I can't really be that mad at you, can I? After all, it's not _my_ job to counter you any more.”

“I really didn't mean –”

“Nah, my fault,” Crowley said. He stretched languidly and draped his arm across Aziraphale's shoulders, pulling him close. “Should have guessed something like that would happen if you were _too_ happy. You can make it up to me if you'd like...”

“How?”

“Let me tempt you to some dinner?”

Dinner was another marvelous affair. Subtle touches of the hand, an occasional foot tracing up a thigh, quite laughter, sparkling eyes. For the first time in a long time Crowley ordered something for himself, making a point of ordering a myriad of pastries and desserts just for the pleasure of feeding his angel. To his great delight Aziraphale indulged him.

Afterward as they so often did, they found themselves in Aziraphale's back room. They were lying on the now much more comfortable – and a tad wider – couch. Aziraphale sat upright, back against a large pillow with his legs extended. Crowley lay between them, cuddled into his chest, a hand pressed up beneath Aziraphale's vest to caress his belly.

Aziraphale had a random book he'd snagged before taking a seat in one hand. He was reading, or at least making it look as though he were. He was far more interested in running his free hand through Crowley's hair. The noises he made were indecent, and Aziraphale was deriving a rather obvious pleasure from finding out just what noises he could wring from his demon.

Crowley was dozing, not quite awake, not quite asleep. He still couldn't believe Aziraphale was warm beneath him, and he didn't want to miss a second of it, just in case it all turned out to be a dream.

“Angel?”

Aziraphale's hand paused, and Crowley groaned in disappointment.

“ _Angel._ ”

Aziraphale chuckled and resumed his caress. “Yes, my dear?”

“Do you think –”

The bell out front chimed as the door opened.

“Angel!” Crowley whined. “Customers? This late? It's indecent!”

“That... wasn't me,” Aziraphale said.

“Well it certainly wasn't _me_ ,” Crowley grumbled. “If you're going to start miracling customers every time we cuddle, we're going to have to have an unpleasant conversation.”

“Hello,” Gabriel announced loudly, stepping into the room. “Slacking off as per usual –”

“– and consorting with the enemy I see,” Michael continued, moving out from behind him.

They both tensed. Aziraphale would have scrambled to his feet, but Crowley was a heavy weight on top of him, and he wasn't moving.

“Slacker, huh?” He drawled. “Kind of insulting yourselves there, aren't you? I mean, we royally kicked Heaven _and_ Hell's collective asses –”

“– metaphorically speaking –” Aziraphale added, a heavy possessive hand settling on Crowley's stomach.

“– so if we're the slackers, what does that make _you_?”

Gabriel's eyes widened at their impertinence, he glanced at Michael's still impassive face, and settled a glare on Aziraphale.

Minutes dragged on in silence.

“Not to be a... bad host,” Aziraphale said eventually, “but to what do we owe the....”

“...well, not pleasure,” Crowley hummed.

“Displeasure?” Aziraphale asked.

“Annoyance?” Crowley mused.

“Irritation.” Aziraphale decided.

“Oo, that's a good one,” Crowley said.

“Enough.” Michael growled. “Take this seriously.”

“Or else... what?” Crowley asked. “We don't answer to you any more. _Well_ , I never answered to you, but Aziraphale doesn't answer to you any more.”

“We're on our side,” Aziraphale said.

“Oh, is that so?” Gabriel said. “Last I checked, he was still an Angel. That makes your side pretty clear, no matter what you might say.”

“So what is this?” Crowley said. “You're just going to stand there and glare at us? That's our punishment? Because frankly, I've never fucked with an audience before, but I could be persuaded.”

“Really, dear?” Aziraphale whispered, amused.

“Could be fun,” Crowley said.

“I would prefer not to.” Aziraphale said lightly.

“Enough of this,” Michael thundered. “It is time.”

“For you to go? Absolutely, don't let the door hit you on the way out.” Crowley said.

“The time for games is over. Your case has been appealed,” Michael said, smirking.

There was a loud boom, and the ceiling became a blinding light. A beam shot down, burning a large hole in a centuries old rug, and stayed there, energy crackling.

“Is that...?”

“Mother,” Michael smiled.

Aziraphale and Crowley leapt to their feet. Before Crowley had taken a step, Aziraphale grabbed him, dragging him back and behind. His wings materialized in an instant and spread wide, keeping Crowley out of sight. There was no way this would actually stop the All Mighty from smiting him, but potentially he'd buy Crowley the few seconds he'd need to escape.

Crowley grabbed his wrist, spinning him around to face him. A minor miracle was the only thing that stopped Aziraphale's wings from knocking him over.

“What are you doing?” Aziraphale said frantically, “Go! Now! Please!”

“You think I'm leaving you here?” Crowley hissed. “No way in Heav – in Hel – _it's just not happening, angel!_ ”

Aziraphale looked at him, tears welling in his eyes. “Please, love. I can't exist without you. _Please_. Save yourself.”

“You think I can do this without _you_?! You think I'd _want_ to?” Crowley shouted.

He grabbed a fist full of Aziraphale's hair, and dragged him as close as he could, kissing him like it was the last time, because he knew it was. What started out aggressive became desperate, and then mournful, until they broke apart, needing to be closer, nuzzling together, tears intermingling as they fell down from their cheeks. The salt burned Crowley a little, but there was nothing in this universe that would break them apart.

“Where ever you go, I go,” he whispered. “You're not getting rid of me that easy.”

Aziraphale laughed brokenly. “It's a deal.”

_**Aziraphale.** _

The high, clear voice resonated through their very beings. It came from everywhere and nowhere, the voice spoken directly inside all of their heads. Gabriel and Michael both felt their spines straighten in response. It wasn't often God chose to speak without using the Metatron as an intermediary.

“Fuck,” Crowley hissed. “We can still run.”

Aziraphale shifted again, nudging Crowley behind him. The demon would have been annoyed if he wasn't so terrified. “Run where?”

“Alpha Centauri. We can go. Right now.”

“That's _God_ , dearest,” Aziraphale murmured. “I doubt we'd even get out the door.”

“How dare you! You are to speak only when directed!” Gabriel growled. “Have you no shame?”

“You will show respect in front of our Mother,” Michael bit. “Or there will be consequences.”

“Consequences?” Crowley shouted. “What, she not feeling in a smity mood? Going to turn me into a slug for a century?” he dismissed them, turning his attention fully to Aziraphale. “Honestly, are all Angels this stupid? I feel like this is relevant information.”

The light pulsed and expanded, engulfing Aziraphale.

“No!” Crowley shouted, but the light pulsed again, and he was shoved back. He flailed as he unceremoniously dropped onto the couch. He tried to scramble to his feet, but he was unable to move off of it.

Aziraphale reached desperately for Crowley, but he was dragged away. To his surprise his was released unharmed on the other side of the room. The light condensed around him, glowing so brightly he was for a moment hidden from view. His breath caught as he was briefly lifted off the ground. He could hear Crowley screaming his name, but it seemed so far away, just barely on the edge of his consciousness.

_**My dear, child.** _

All Aziraphale felt was warmth. His eyes fluttered closed as he felt it suffuse through his being, filling him with a feeling he hadn't known since Eden.

_**Stand aside. Be still.** _

“Don't you touch him!” Crowley screamed. “Let him go!”

The light faded, once more concentrating on a single point, and suddenly Crowley could move again. He darted forward, pulling Aziraphale into his arms, checking him for any injuries. Aziraphale seemed fine, if a little dazed. After a brief moment he was able to move his arms, reaching up to wrap his arms around Crowley's waist, and nuzzle close.

“Are you okay?” Crowley whispered.

Aziraphale nodded, but he was still to overcome to speak.

_**Demon Crowley. Step forward.** _

“Fuck you!” Crowley shouted. His blood froze as he realized what he'd done. He swallowed and glared at the light.

“Do you know who you're speaking to?” Michael's voice boomed.

“How dare you!” Gabriel growled.

“What does it matter?” Crowley snarled. “I'm going to be killed anyway, right? Well, I'm going out on my own terms.”

_**Crowley...** _

“Go to Hell!” Crowley shouted. With a huff he dismissed them and cuddled back into Aziraphale's warmth. “I love you. I'm so sorry.”

_**Aziraphale...** _

“Let's go together then,” Aziraphale whispered.

Gabriel and Michael shared an annoyed look and strode forward. Michael grabbed Crowley's arm, and Gabriel wrapped his arm around Aziraphale's throat. Crowley was tossed back where he'd started. He crashed with an annoyed shout onto the couch and immediately scrambled to his feet. Gabriel didn't need to take Aziraphale anywhere. He simply kept him in place.

Crowley moved to charge them again, but this time God intervened. Crowley crashed into an invisible barrier. He scrambled at it, clawed and kicked. It made no difference.

The light pulsed, and now engulfed Crowley.

“No!” Aziraphale cried. He tried to run forward but Gabriel held him fast. “Please don't do this!”

_**For your role in the apocalypse –** _

“I was every bit as involved!” Aziraphale shouted.

A chuckled emanated from the light, and the room was filled with a comforting bliss.

_**You were, my child, and I am just as proud of you.** _

A confused haze settled over the room.

“I don't understand,” Gabriel said at last. “They acted out against their own kind to stop the Great War. They colluded with the enemy. They tried to form a coup. How can you be proud of them?”

_**Gabriel, my directive to you and the rest of my children was to protect an preserve humankind. My dear son Lucifer was cast out for refusing to love them as he loved me. These two are the only ones who have listened to me, and for that they shall be rewarded.** _

“What?” Gabriel looked to Michael for some kind of answer, but his sister seemed just as lost.

_**Demon Crowley, you stood by the humans. You stood against the full forces of Heaven and Hell. For your actions, you have been redeemed.** _

The light pulsed, and the room was flooded with blinding light. When it faded, someone else stood in Crowley's place. Aziraphale gasped and rushed forward, easily breaking out of Gabriel's confused hold. His hands framed Crowley's face, his touch careful and hesitant.

In all the things that mattered, Crowley hadn't changed much, but after knowing him for 6000 years every little alteration screamed at him.

Under his skin golden flecks gave the illusion of light freckles. His usually short hair – for this century at least – now fell to his waist in tumbles and curls, still a rich red. His wings had been forced out, and extended as far as they could. Though still black, they now had bright specks of white and mesmorizing swirls of purple, forming countless galaxies and constellations. Crowley's hands reached up to loosely clasp Aziraphale's wrists. He opened his eyes, and Aziraphale's breath caught. They were no longer the bright serpentine color he'd loved so much. Instead they were the deepest black, countless universes swirling in their depths. His new found power was overwhelming, pressing harshly against the confines of the walls, forcing Gabriel and Michael back a step.

“Is that... Raphael?” Gabriel asked.

“So that's where you've been,” Michael said.

Gabriel and Michael shared a glance, and then with a smile they moved forward to welcome their brother back to the fold. After all, they could feel the power radiating from him, and if there was one thing they could respect, it was power. He was clearly ready to rejoin them as an Archangel.

Raphael stepped back. He looked down at himself, at his hands, at his wings. He looked back to Aziraphale who seemed to stunned to do anything more than look at him.

“How.. dare you. How _dare_ you!” Raphael rounded on the beam of light. “How dare you do something like this without asking! This is unfair!”

Gabriel took a careful step away from Raphael. A demon had never been redeemed before, and now it looked like their newly gained Archangel was going to be cast down again in a matter of minutes.

If Raphael cared at all about the careful line he was walking, it wasn't showing it. Instead he turned his back on his mother, and rounded on Aziraphale, gathering him close. “I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry.”

Aziraphale stared at him in shock. “What...” he shook himself. “Why would you be sorry?”

Raphael glared at God's still present, slightly amused beam. “Well... I'm not really who you thought I was, am I?”

“An Archangel. You've been an Archangel... this whole time.”

“Well, not really, I mean... I Fell. I was a demon. It didn't matter who I had been, right? It wasn't as if I ever thought it would matter...”

“Alpha Centauri... You said...” Aziraphale laughed a tad hysterically. “You created it. The stars, you placed them.” His head dropped to Raphael's shoulder. “I certainly made a fool of myself, didn't I?”

“What? No! Not at all, angel! This doesn't change anything!”

“Raphael, we have things to do,” Gabriel cut in.

“It's Crowley!” Raphael, snapped.

“Well, not anymore,” Michael said. “It's time for you to regain your place.”

“You can all fuck right the fuck off!” Crowley raged. “I don't want _anything_ to do with you bastards!”

“You have responsibilities, Raphael!” Michael snapped.

“ _It's Crowley!_ And you tried to kill Aziraphale! You tried to force him into a wall of Hellfire! You really think I'd join you after that? None of you are worthy of being called Angels!”

Aziraphale chuckled helplessly, his head dropping to his shoulder.

Crowley shot him a terrified look.

“You silly old Serpent. You're exactly the same.”

“Exactly!” He said desperately. “I'm exactly the same. So everything between us is exactly the same, right? No need to panic.”

“Crowley –”

“I don't even want to be an Angel, you know?” Crowley cut in. “I – I'll fall again if you want. Just please, angel...”

Aziraphale had never seen an Archangel look so terrified, especially when looking at him. This was no stranger. He laughed and shifted forward, pressing a careful kiss to Crowley's lips. The touch shot through them like a bold of lightening. “Oh my dearest darling. I don't care if you're a demon, or angel, or what name you go by. You'll always be the one who holds my heart... if you want it.”

_**Perfect. My precious Aziraphale, it is your turn.** _

Aziraphale peeked at the light, but nothing was going to make him step out of the circle of Crowley's arms.

_**Not only have you spent the last 6000 years protecting humans, you have shown the full extent of Angelic Grace in your relationship with the former demon Crowley. Watching your relationship bloom has been one of my greatest pleasures in the past millennium. For your actions I shall grant your wish. You are no longer subject to the laws of Heaven or Hell. You and Ra – Crowley shall answer only to each other. No Angel or Archangel may command you.** _

Aziraphale smiled, large and unclouded, his heart so light he felt it was a struggle to keep his feet on the floor. He reached for Crowley just as Crowley reached for him, and as their lips met again the world fell away – nothing existed except the two of them.

Michael glared at them, his mouth drawn as though he'd just bit into a lemon.

“Wait, hold on,” Gabriel said. “You mean... _you're in love?_ Like, _love_ love?”

Michael turned her scowl on him.

“Did you know about this?”

Michael shrugged. “Does it make a difference?”

“Of course it does!” Gabriel shouted. “I thought they were... I don't know, forming a rebellion or something! I thought they were trying to tear down the gates of Heaven! You mean to tell me these idiots were just... flirting??”

Crowley groaned, breaking away from Aziraphale's tempting softness. He glared at the Archangels. “We are having a moment here!”

“ _I am having a moment, Raphael!_ ” Gabriel shouted.

“ _It's fucking Crowley, you bastard!_ ”

Aziraphale smiled shyly. “You can change it if you want to... if you're more comfortable with it. I don't mind what you call yourself.”

“Fuck that. Crowley suits me. I'm not changing it now.”

Aziraphale laughed, and brushed his nose against an amused Crowley.

_**I've been waiting so long for the two of you to finally take this step.**_ The light flared, embracing the both of them. **_I'm not going to wait another 6000 years, children. Try to move a little faster?_**

“What does she mean, dearest?” Aziraphale murmured.

“Yeah,” Crowley said, “We've already...”

_**And I expect a hand written invitation, Crowley.** _

Her voice was pleasant, and amused. If a beam of light could wink, she would have.

Crowley's eyes flew open, a deep blush settling on his cheeks. Aziraphale nudged his chin, trying to get his attention back, his face a clear question.

“It's nothing, angel!” Crowley said quickly. His eyes flicked to the beam. “Yes, ma'am.”

With a slight chuckle the beam vanished.

“What was that about?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley blushed harder. “Absolutely nothing, angel, don't worry about it.”

Michael sighed in defeat as Gabriel laughed boisterously. “So!” he said, when he finally could. “Leading a demon to love! That is quite impressive! I always thought they couldn't feel like that.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Yes, because you're the leading expert on demons.”

Gabriel laughed again and strode forward, clapping a hand onto Crowley's shoulder. “I suppose I have only one question for you then.”

“Oh?”

“What kind of flowers does Beelzebub like?”


End file.
